


The Wind and the Waves

by within_a_dream



Category: The Lighthouse's Tale-Nickel Creek (Song)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Gen, Lighthouses, Song-based fic, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 11:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3065624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/within_a_dream/pseuds/within_a_dream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brick wears away, but memories remain. And the lighthouse remembers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wind and the Waves

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a Christmas gift for my friend Ms. Rose--hope you enjoy!
> 
> Based on [The Lighthouse's Tale](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ARIr6S_0lAQ), by Nickel Creek.

The lighthouse had been alone for so long. Its windows had shattered, and vines now covered the walls that had once shone white. Its light had been the first thing to fade, and it still mourned the brightness at night, and the sense of purpose. What was it meant for, without its purpose? Without its keeper?

After years and years of solitude, people began to scrape open its rusted door or clamber in through its empty window panes. The lighthouse was excited at first, wondering if any of the visitors would be its new keeper. It soon learned that they weren’t here to stay. They rifled through the pages of its logs, trampled up and down its stairs, and sometimes brought out candles and strange wooden boards and tried to talk to God only knew who. But they always left in the end. It learned, eventually, that they were hoping to contact its keeper, and it longed for the strength to shake its walls and throw them out for their disrespect. He was dead and gone, and these strangers should let him rest in peace.

The strangers came, and went, and between the visits the lighthouse could feel itself fading back into the cliff from which it had been built. It didn’t welcome its collapse, exactly, but it had grown accustomed to the idea that someday it too would fall into the sea. It seemed a fitting end, somehow. The tide washed in and out, the sun rose and fell, and the lighthouse grew weary of its watch. The visits from strangers grew less frequent, and it grew accustomed to its emptiness.

When the footsteps on its floor came again on a damp autumn night, it felt like an affront. The lighthouse heard the boy first, his harsh whisper echoing through its empty rooms.

“They say it’s haunted.”

“Yeah, you told me already.” It liked the other child more—their voice was soft, and their steps light.

“The last guy who lived here had a lover who broke his heart. He jumped from the top of the tower, and on stormy nights, you can still see him walking. Isn’t that scary?”

“I think it’s sad.” Their hand pressed against its wall, reminding it of a time long ago. “There were people who lived and died here, and you don’t even know their names.”

“You’re no fun, Mary.”

These guests left, like all the others before them, but the lighthouse felt more awake than it had in years. It remembered gentle fingers against its plaster, so much like those that had touched it long ago. It remembered a time when it had been happy. It remembered…

 ~~~

“Well. Here we are, then.” The new keeper had spent his morning walking every inch of the lighthouse, making sure everything was in its place. “Rather lonely here, isn’t it? I should have expected that, I suppose.” The last keeper had hardly spoken, though on particularly stormy nights he’d sung to himself, voice low and rough.

“I might as well introduce myself to you, as we’re to be spending so much time together.” He laid his hand across its wall. “I’m Etienne St. Clair. I wasn’t expecting quite so desolate a post when the job was described to me, but the silence is nice. I have five siblings, you see, and though I love them dearly, they can be a bit much. I’ve been hoping to marry and find a home of my own soon, which is part of the reason I took this job. The boss seemed surprised that I wouldn’t want a position somewhere less isolated, but Corinne’s away at sea half the year anyway, I won’t be seeing much less of her here than I would back in town.”

The lighthouse loved the way his voice filled up its rooms, the images his stories conjured up in its mind. He told so many stories, until it felt it knew his siblings and his love as well as it knew Etienne himself. He sang often as well, as he polished its lamp and cleaned its windows and replenished its oil stores, his voice a rich tenor that echoed off the walls in a most pleasing way. It hadn’t known there were so many songs in the world. Etienne scarcely repeated one twice, seeming to have an endless supply of songs about beautiful women and handsome men, brave knights and cunning fairies. Sometimes it longed for a voice to join in, although it knew that speaking was not its place.

It never wanted to speak more than the nights its keeper sat looking out over the ocean, silently searching the waves for something. His eyes followed the beam of light that shone out over the sea, but he never seemed to find what he was looking for.

One day, he saw something that made him stop looking, and start preparing the lighthouse (for what, it wasn’t sure.) He straightened the frames on the walls, swept the floor and swept it again, made sure his clothes were perfectly organized. He sang more than ever, songs about love with jaunty melodies that danced through the air.

 ~~~

A week or so later, a boat appeared on the horizon, a woman at its helm. Its keeper glowed with happiness as he watched her approach, grinning wider than it had ever seen. When she reached the dock, Etienne was there to wrap her in his arms and lift her onto the shore.

“This is Corinne,” he said as they walked through the lighthouse’s door.

Corinne cocked her head at Etienne. “Who are you talking to?”

“Oh, I’ve…gotten into the habit of talking to the lighthouse. It gets lonely out here, you know.” It had never seen him blush before. Corinne evidently had, because she laughed and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I’ll introduce myself.” There was a laugh in her voice, but she reached out her hand to meet its wall much like its keeper had. “My name is Corinne. I’m the captain of a lovely ship called the _Ella Mae_ , and I’ve been away at sea these past months. I trust you’ve taken good care of my Etienne while I was gone.”

It was nice, to hear another person’s voice. Corinne sang too, bawdy sea chanties that made Etienne blush. She told them stories of the lands she’d sailed to, as Etienne plaited her long brown hair. She sat with Etienne after he’d lit the lamp, watching the sun sink into the waves.

All too soon, the time came for her to leave. She set off early in the morning, leaving Etienne with a kiss and a promise that she would take the _Ella Mae_ past the lighthouse on her way out to sea.

The day Corinne’s ship was set to depart, dark stormclouds began to gather at the edge of the sky. The lighthouse’s keeper watched their approach with worry in his eyes, walking the edge of its walls and whispering prayers under his breath.

At midday, he ceased his pacing to lean against its wall and say, “I’m sorry. I worry about her, you know? But this is far from her first voyage. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

It wished it had arms, to reach out and embrace him.

Soon after, the storm seemed to halt its approach. Its keeper wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve, and began to scale the stairs to its lamp. He was lighting it when the first rumble of thunder sounded and the storm began to blow in with a vengeance. Etienne pressed his face against the rain-pelted glass, his hissed “No!” when he saw a mast through the storm barely audible above the pounding rain and the thunder.

The ship drew closer to the island, buffeted by the wind and looking near to being torn apart by the gale. The waves crashed, and the wind howled, and as a bolt of lightning tore across the sky, the _Ella Mae_ ran aground with a sickening crunch.

“No. No, no, no!” Etienne’s cry was nearly lost in the booming thunder that followed. He watched, helpless inside of the lighthouse, as his love’s ship sank into the sea.

 ~~~

The next morning, the beach was coated with wood and debris. Among the wreckage lay a limp body, long dark hair tangled with splinters and seaweed. Etienne ran to her side, his wordless howl echoing over the crash of the waves as he gathered her in his arms.

He buried her on the island, marking the spot with a cross bound together from driftwood. Then he climbed its tower, and as the sun sank beneath the waves, leapt from its edge.

 ~~~

New keepers had come after that, but none had stayed for long, and none talked to it like Etienne had. One day, one of them left, and no one came to take his place. Each storm that came wore away more of the lighthouse’s walls, each night left its light colder, and it began to grow used to the idea of fading away. The intruders began to arrive, and it grew weary of its vigil.

After years of solitude, workers arrived, with the keys to its locks and cameras to capture every inch of its insides. On their heels came someone the lighthouse recognized as the child Mary who had touched its walls so gently, now grown up and wearing a suit. They pressed their hands against its walls once again, whispering their plans.

The workers came back with boats full of supplies, to whitewash its walls and replace its shattered windows and polish its light once again. When the repairs had finished, Mary returned to pore over its logs and begin to put its rooms back into order. They made the beds, set the table for dinner, and brought in glass cases for its logs and velvet ropes to block off the furniture. Across from the door, they hung portraits of its keeper and his love, frames emblazoned with their names.

The day after the portraits were hung, Mary paced through the lighthouse, straightening everything in sight and smiling nervously much like its keeper had so long ago. They peered out over the sea, until something caught their eye and drew them out to the dock. Soon enough, a ferry pulled up to the shore, and a small crowd poured off onto the island. Mary led them up the hill and in its door, pointing out the logs and the kitchen and the portraits. Once again, voices filled its rooms, whispering the names of its keeper and his love. That night, they lit its lamp, and as it shone out across the ocean, the lighthouse was content.


End file.
